


A Feeling That Won't Disappear

by LadyTorix



Series: MiniMegs Week 2019 [3]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Loneliness, M/M, Minimus works too damn much and doesn't know what to do with FEELINGS, Past Character Death, Plug and Play, Post Lost Light, Second Chances, Sparkmerging, fixit fic, more utilitarian than sexy?, sad Minimus, the sad ending, to a certain degree of fixing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-16
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-07-21 06:29:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19997389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyTorix/pseuds/LadyTorix
Summary: The history of the Functionist universe’s Seething Moon was quite different from the one the Lost Light encountered in their native reality.  In the years of the Functionist council’s push for conquest it had been found and the lives contained within were harvested on a massive scale.  Frozen and stockpiled, they were used to create a cold constructed army for the council's ambitions of conquest.An immense number of these sparks were lost, but a few were lucky, misplaced and forgotten until after the council’s fall.  But...what if a familiar spark had been spared?





	1. Doctor, Doctor--What Do You Do For a Broken Spark?

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to my friend [specspectacle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/specspectacle/) for being my beta reader!
> 
> Consider Back to Life (the 80's remix) by Hailee Steinfeld to be the official soundtrack for this. God knows I listened to it enough during the month or so I was working on it.
> 
> Written for the prompt AU/FU from the 2019 MiniMegs week.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minimus goes to the doctor and stumbles upon someone unexpected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MiniMegs Week 2019 Day 5

Minimus sighed, between the necessity of obtaining a new physician and the furniture--the room-- _everything_ \--being much too large for his irreducible frame, he felt worn out and the day had barely begun.

He wasn’t used to feeling this small, even when alone he almost never took off his augmentation armor. But for a checkup, _especially_ with a new doctor, this was usually the best approach. They’d just make him shed it anyway, and he might as well do what he could to get out of here as soon as possible.

A polite knock came at the door.

“Come in.”

A large white mech with a dark helm and accents of blue and medic red on his frame entered. (A flyer, judging by the large translucent wings on his back.)

The medic stuck out his hand, “Hello, I am Calamus. You must be Minimus Ambus?”

Minimus nodded.

“It’s nice to meet you. I apologize that Remedy retired at the end of the last cycle,” he pulled over a stool and sat down in front of Minimus, datapad in hand. “I know it can be uncomfortable to have to switch doctors suddenly, but if you have any concerns please let me know.”

Minimus cleared his throat, “I had specifically requested Remedy due to his in depth knowledge of load-bearer sparks.”

Calamus nodded seriously, holding Minimus’s gaze with bright blue optics. The intensity reminded him of something familiar but he couldn’t quite put a servo on what.

“I am…anxious about being under your care when I am unfamiliar with your experience.”

“That is understandable, particularly if you have had difficulty with medics before. Perhaps we can go over your medical history together, and see how comfortable you feel afterwards?”

Minimus shook his head slightly to clear it--the medic’s voice had an incredibly soothing cadence to it, “Yes, that is acceptable.”

“Good,” Calamus said brightly as he pulled up a large hologram of Minimus’s medical file so they could both view it. “Now, where would you like to start, Minimus?”

* * *

“I see, a spark brother, and you were both load-bearers? That’s very interesting. Particularly as you were sparked before the sparklings from the Luna-1 were harvested, supersparks were much rarer.”

“Yes…but he’s long deceased I’m afraid.”

Calamus’s mouth formed a thin line, “My apologies, I did not mean to touch upon a sensitive topic.”

“It is quite alright.”

Minimus was not accustomed to being the focus of one mech for so long, and the medic was very thorough, taking his time to understand not only his medical history chart but also the supplemental records on his armor that he had brought in. He almost felt relaxed as the two of them poured over the information together.

He realized (rather guiltily) that he was enjoying the attention.

It had been so long since he’d had such a...fulfilling conversation. He talked with the mechs he worked with of course, but almost never about things outside of work, or _himself_. He hadn’t had a conversation that made him feel like this since…

 _Oh._ His optics widened. His spark skipped several beats, panging painfully in his chassis and he cried out.

 _Megatron._ He hadn’t felt like this since those nights with Megatron on the Lost Light centuries ago.

He squeezed his optics shut and did his best to vent slowly and evenly.

He could feel Calamus accessing one of the diagnostic ports near his shoulder. _Primus._ He would swear that even the medic’s touch was the same.

His spark hammered wildly in his chest, refusing to let the question in his processor be discarded, “Where…you…sparked from the Functionist Luna-1?” he forced out between vents.

“Keep venting, Minimus.”

“Please,” he gasped.

“Yes. Now deep vents.”

He tried to keep venting, but the pain in his spark remained. Loss. An old wound opening back up.

_Megatron._

The Megatron from the Functionist universe could still be alive. Only he would have never been Megatron in the first place would he? He--he _had_ always wanted to be a medic.

 _No._ Only pain lay down that path, he shook his head sharply, gripping the edge of the medical berth, failing to suppress a sob.

“Minimus?” Calamus’s voice was faint through the fog of pain in his frame.

“Yes?” he choked out through gritted dentae.

“You’re suffering from some spark spasms. I am going to give you some pain suppressors, this should help them stop, okay?”

Minimus nodded. He felt something warm enter his lines, and slowly—agonizingly slowly—the pain subsided little by little, until he was able to vent normally again. He carefully let go of the berth. He’d been gripping so hard he’d dented in the metal.

He held his forehead with his hand, “I… apologize.”

“There’s no need to apologize, Minimus,” Calamus unplugged a diagnostic cable from Minimus’s arm and sat back down, gazing at him with a careful expression. “Would you prefer I fetch another medic?”

“No!” Minimus said quickly, “Please.”

The medic nodded slowly, “Then may I ask why was my being sparked from New Luna-1 important?”

“My-my conjunx,” Minimus said miserably as he looked down, attempting to wipe away the coolant from his cheeks. “He was sparked from Luna-1. You...remind me of him.”

He felt a servo on his arm, “I’m sorry for you loss.” Calamus was looking at him with that same intensity he had loved so much.

_Megatron’s intensity._

Minimus kissed Calamus then. He knew he shouldn’t have, but the crushing weight behind the mech's familiarity were so overwhelming, he wanted to weep.

Unexpectedly, he felt a servo reach up and cup his chin, angling his mouth upward, Calamus pulled him into a deeper kiss. Some part of Minimus reflected on their unprofessionalism, but the rest of him didn't care. He felt… _alive._ The most alive he had felt in vorns.

Without realizing it, his field slowly intertwined with Calamus’s, and when they pulled apart sometime later, Minimus found he'd been lifted up into the medic’s arms.

Calamus looked at him with wide surprised optics and, no wonder, Minimus realized just how much affection, how much _love_ , he’d suffused into his own field that had been intermingled with the other mech’s. “I apologize,” Minimus said shakily, “I-I should not have done that.”

Their fields were still intertwined. Neither of them made a move to untangle themselves, nor did Calamus stop holding him. Instead he leaned down slowly, so slowly, giving Minimus a maddening amount of time to object, before pulling him into another kiss, his field warm, but tentative.

When Calamus pulled back, he gazed at Minimus with bright optics, “I...er, have other patients today. Can we-- Can I see you again?”

“I think,” Minimus said slowly, static clinging to his words, “I am free tonight?”

* * *

_Damn._ Minimus swore internally as he was walking out of the office sometime later. He was going to have to make another doctor’s appointment after all.

It certainly wouldn’t do for him to be Calamus’s patient after _that!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next part goes up tomorrow!
> 
> Please note: I will not being tagging this as MiniMegs Week on Tumblr because of the 'M' rating, but it is still going in my individual series on AO3 for organizational purposes. (Overall, this is pretty tame, but sparkmerging is analogous to sex in this universe so I've rated it accordingly.)


	2. I'm a Medic Dammit, Not a Sugar Daddy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An old friend comes a calling and says more than he realizes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MiniMegs Week 2019 Day 6

Calamus groaned as his internal alarm went off. He was warm and the morning air was chilly, particularly on his sensitive wings. After a minute or two he began to slowly scoot off the berth trying not to wake the small mech next to him.

A plan that was destined for failure as Minimus burrowed deeper into his side, wrapping one arm around his midsection. He knew the minibot disliked the cold, but when he was asleep Calamus swore that he was like a one bot heat seeking missile.

He sighed, and bent down kissing Minimus on the helm as he gently began unhooking his partner’s servos. “My dear, I need you to let me get up.”

“Umphf?” Minimus said incoherently, his optics onlining slowly.

“I have work, remember?”

“Oh, yes...of course, my apologies.”

“No need to apologize,” Calamus dipped down to kiss the back of Minimus’s hand as he pulled his arm back, before tucking the insulation tarps back around him. ”I would much rather be back under the covers too.”

* * *

He would be relieved once they’d set up his section of the office, at present he still couldn’t find any of his datapads. He’d just have to make do without until they were done unpacking, but he fruitlessly shifted around some things in a nearby container anyway, hoping to at least track down his work datapad.

They had so often worked odd hours, or on opposite shifts from each other. And it had been hard going back and forth between their two residences, their jobs, and trying to spend time together. But now they’d wake up together. No more recharging alone. Calamus smiled at the thought, every morning--waking up next to Minimus. It was definitely worth a lost datapad or two.

A sharp knock at the door snapped him out of his musing.

It was far too early in the morning for visitors. Peeking through the viewport, the only thing he could make out was a blur of red and yellow.

Rapid knocking started, much louder this time around, and he opened the door, glaring down at the mech that was on the other side, “Can I help you?”

The speedster was frozen in mid knock and his optics widened as he looked up, “Uh, yeah--I’m looking for Mags?”

“Mags?”

“You know, Ultra Magnus? Uh, Minimus?”

Calamus crossed his arms, and narrowed his eyes as he looked down, “It’s five in the morning. If you need to talk to Minimus, then I suggest coming back in a few hours when it’s a decent damn hour.”

“Look--just tell him I’m here first.” The speedster huffed, crossing his own arms and glaring up.

“Fine. But you,” Calamus said, pointing to the ground, “stay here.”

He turned back inside and heard the speedster shout, “Tell him it’s Rodimus!”

“Aft,” Calamus muttered after the door closed behind him. He headed back down the hallway to the berth room. It was the first day in two quartexes that Minimus had off, and, of course, some idiot had to show up at their door at some Primus forsaken hour.

“Minimus,” he shook the minibot gently.

Minimus sat up groggily, “Cal…? Hmm, what is it?”

“There’s a Rodimus at the door asking for you?”

“Rodimus!?! Here?”

Calamus sighed, “I take it you know him then?”

“Yes, can you let him in while I make myself decent?” Minimus was already up on his feet, piecing together the pieces of his armor while he spoke.

“Yes. I have some time before I need to leave.”

“Thank you,” Minimus gave him a quick peck on the cheek before heading down the hall into their washracks.

* * *

He opened the door wordlessly and gestured Rodimus into the room. The speedster bounced past him, cockiness radiating off of him in waves. Rodimus flopped into one of the chairs before looking back up to Calamus and grinning, “Soooo, who the frag are you anyway? I feel like I would have heard about it if Minimus needed a live in nurse or something.”

“I’m a medic,” Calamus corrected him dryly.

Rodimus rolled his eyes, “Live in medic, then.”

“Minimus is fine,” Calamus sunk into one of the nearby chairs, deeply hoping Minimus would be out soon. He wasn’t a violent mech, but he had a sinking feeling that being around this mech might just make him wish he were.

“OHHHH, so you’re, like, his sugar daddy, then?”

“What?”

“Wait...no, other way around, he’d be YOUR sugar daddy.”

He sighed, scrubbed his hand across his face; he was going to regret asking this, “What the frag is a ‘sugar daddy’?”

“Earth term. Means he’s your rich older boyfriend who gives you gifts for fragging his brains out.”

Ah, yes--there was that regret, “He’s not my sugar daddy.”

“Dude, you’re living in a nice apartment with an older mech. Totally a sugar daddy situation.”

He glared at Rodimus, “Then you must not know Minimus very well.”

“Nah, I do--Mags just probably has you reading poetry or listening to music or somethin' instead of, you know, fragging his brains out _all_ the time.”

Calamus bit down on his lip and kept glaring at the smaller mech, who was now inexplicably sitting sideways in the chair, his legs thrown over one side. He did his best to keep an even tone when he spoke, “So why are you here?”

Rodimus put his arms behind his head and offlined his optics, “Needed to ask him something.”

“At five in the morning.”

“Yup.”

“You realize that's insane.”

Rodimus snorted, but didn’t even bother to online his optics, “We just landed and we’re flying another load out tomorrow, I’ve only got a couple of hours before I need to be back at the ship. He’s the only one I know of that’s usually up this early.”

Calamus privately had to admit that he had a point--any other day, Minimus would be up this early. (Not that this made the mech any less of a colossal aft.)

“What’s your name anyway?”

“Calamus.”

“So you live here?” Rodimus's optics brightened as he turned to him.

“Yes.”

“Huh,” Rodimus leaned his head back, studying the ceiling, “guess I never thought he’d get over Megs.”

“Megs...was his conjunx?”

“At the end, yeah. They asked me to marry them before he was executed. I don’t think it was ever you know, legal, ‘legal’,” Rodimus said flicking the quotation marks into the air, “but as far as the two of them were concerned, yeah, conjunxes.”

“His conjunx was executed?”

“Well, yeah, I mean he was freaking Megatron.”

Calamus shook his head, “I’m sorry? Minimus said his conjunx was sparked on Luna-1, you cannot possibly mean THAT Megatron.”

Rodimus bolted up, “So funny story! Well, weird story, I guess. Megatron’s spark was actually harvested from Luna-1 and taken back in time and shoved into a cold constructed body.”

It was to fragging early for this, “What in the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m being serious--you’ve heard of Brainstorm, right?”

“Everyone who works in a scientific field has heard of Brainstorm.” Even a number of organic races had heard of Brainstorm. Calamus wouldn’t be surprised if he died today and Primus himself had heard of Brainstorm.

“Well, okay, so he’d picked up this spark when we found Luna-1--”

“Stop. Wait. What do you mean you ‘found’ Luna-1--” Did he mean Minimus’s Luna-1?

Rodimus waved his hand, “Not important, but yeah, anyway we found Luna-1 and Brainstorm finds this superspark, picks it up, shoves it in his chassis, and then later when he used that crazy briefcase to go back in time--” 

“Briefcase? Time?” Calamus said a little hopelessly.

“Time travel, yeah. Keep up, man--he went back in time to kill our Megatron, which he didn’t, but Rewind did, but anyway, so that’s when the split in our universes happened. One where Megatron was created, by taking the superspark Brainstorm had found on Luna-1 and putting it in that empty frame, and one where none of that ever happened at all. Cool, huh?” 

Rodimus finished with a flourish before flopping back down, “I’m surprised Mags has never mentioned any of this stuff to you. I guess, maybe it just wasn’t as important to him…,” he said deflating slightly.

“That’s...absurd.”

“Pretty much, we got into some serious shenanigans on the Lost Light.”

“That doesn’t even make any coherent sense!” Calamus said, pinching the bridge of his nose in exasperation.

Rodimus shrugged, “Whatev--it’s what happened.”

This was just about more than he could take. Mercifully, Minimus walked into the room just then and Rodimus gave him finger guns from his position on the chair, “Mornin’ Mags!”

“Hello Rodimus,” Minimus said patiently as he sat down nearby.

“I need to start my shift, see you tonight,” Calamus stood up and kissed Minimus quickly on the helm before exiting out to their balcony. He did his best to ignore the loud whistles coming from Rodimus behind him as he transformed and took to the air.

* * *

Calamus had always been a little unusual among the small number of surviving ‘frozen’ Lunarians. He was a point one percenter--though that meant far less in a world where so many of the sparks from Luna-1 were also supersparks. But then...he also didn’t have a double.

Every single other Lunarian from New Luna-1 had a double from this world’s Luna-1. (As the main director for Bronze Harvest, Minimus himself had been a large part of the reason for this.) Unlike New Luna-1, Luna-1’s sparks had all been properly cared for, properly forged, and allowed to become the mechs they were meant to be.

Then why was he alone without a double?

Rodimus was clearly insane. But Calamus couldn’t stop thinking about what he had said. If (a big _IF_ ), what he was saying was true then...it was entirely possible that one solitary spark had been removed from Luna-1 before the Bronze Harvest.

_Megatron._

His information would be a matter of public record, or at least his spark information would have been recorded before his death. Calamus could compare his spark signature to Megatron’s. An easy way to dispel Rodimus’s insanity from this morning, if nothing else.

After all, Rodimus was either deranged or lying… Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rodimus has a habit of working his way into my fics that even I don't understand. Imagine my horror when I realized that not only is Rodimus scarily easy for me to write, but also, *gasp* _fun!_
> 
> Last part goes up tomorrow!


	3. You’re Bringing Me Back To Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And I know that you're gone but I swear that you're here. It's a feeling that won't disappear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MiniMegs Week 2019 Day 7

“Minimus?” Calamus’s voice came from the other room.

“In here!” Minimus called over his shoulder, as he continued to pull things out of the box in front of him.

“There you are.” He heard Calamus’s footsteps entering the office and the big mech chuckled, “My, my, you’ve been busy.”

“Yes, well,” Minimus adjusted a few trinkets on the shelf in front of him, “I had hoped to be done before you got home, but it seems there are still some things left to unpack.”

Calamus scooped him up, “No matter. We can finish together tomorrow.”

Minimus felt the thrum of Calamus’s spark vibrating through his frame as the big mech held him. He was comforting and wonderfully warm. He pulled Calamus’s face down closer to his own and leaned forward, kissing him eagerly, “I missed you.”

“Well, I believe I am not needed anywhere for awhile,” Calamus said in a low, rough voice, near Minimus’s ear, sending shivers down his struts.

* * *

The apartment was dark and quiet. Minimus dozed as the soothing pulsing of Calamus's spark vibrated through his frame.

“Minimus?"

“Hmm?” He scooted closer to Calamus’s chest, seeking the larger mech’s warmth.

“I… wanted to talk to you have something.”

Minimus sat up, focusing his attention on Calamus’s optics in the dim light, “Yes?”

“You know that I have no double from your Luna-1.”

“Yes.”

“Despite that chances of that being astronomically slim, and the Bronze Harvest entering the last stage of production.”

“Yes?”

Calamus continued to focus on him, reaching up and cupping his cheek, “And you… know why, don’t you?”

Minimus flinched slightly but Calamus’s hand stayed, warm and gentle on his cheek. He vented deeply and forced out a quiet, “Yes.”

“And if I told you that my spark signature matches his?” Calamus begun to pull him down closer.

Minimus let himself be pulled into an embrace, “I… are you angry?”

“No,” Calamus whispered softly, as he pulled him close to his spark. “No, Minimus.”

Coolant welled up in Minimus’s eyes, “I am...sorry. I am so sorry.”

“For what? Recognizing something in me of someone you loved? Minimus, you don’t need to apologize.”

“I do not want you to feel like I expect you to--to BE him,” Minimus said, suppressing a sob.

“Shhh, shhh,” Calamus murmured, rubbing his back “I haven’t felt that way, not once.”

“How did--”

“Rodimus.”

Minimus ex-vented heavily, burying his head in Calamus’s chest, “What else did he say to you this morning?”

“Something about you being my sugar daddy?”

A stifled groan came from Minimus, but Calamus chuckled, wrapping his field around him.

“Tell me about him?” he said softly.

Minimus didn’t respond immediately, and at first he thought the minibot had fallen asleep, but wordlessly, Minimus unspooled an interface cord from his wrist and pushed it into his hand. Calamus looked at him, slightly bewildered. He knew Minimus had never been fond of other bots in his processor, even when interfacing.

“I trust you.”

Minimus would never say those words lightly. He opened an access port and plugged in. He dropped his firewall immediately, Minimus did the same.

* * *

_Ultra Magnus sat at a desk aboard the Lost Light, frustration radiating off of him. He had found several issues during his maintenance inspection before they’d returned to Cybertron and yet, Rodimus still hadn’t addressed them! They’d been docked for over a month dealing with-- He gritted his dentae--that mockery of a trial. And now he had all these other things to worry about. He’d finish this report and then hunt down his captain--_

_Suddenly a message appeared on his HUD. It was from Megatron._

_He narrowed his optics. Their new co-captain had only just been brought on board before they’d left Cybertron a few hours ago, was he really going to start trying to get out of his responsibilities already?_

_But wait--no, he…was asking for clarifications on old reports? (Specifically_ **_his_ ** _old reports?)_

_Rodimus never read his reports._

_How many had Megatron read?_

_He sat dumbfounded, staring at the message blankly. A strange feeling was welling up inside of him and he wasn’t sure what it was. He set up a meeting the next day to discuss the report clarifications with the new co-captain and then got up. He was pretty sure that he needed a walk to clear his head._

_The room faded away as other memories played, tumbling over each other. A large grey mech leaned forward, listening attentively as he and Ultra Magnus (and later, just Minimus with increasing frequency) go over reports and figures and sometimes share a quiet drink together._

**_“You work so hard to keep everyone safe.”_ **

_The mech’s voice is deep and rich as snippets of poetry fade in and out. The expression on his face loses much of it’s hardness over time and the adoration in the mech’s optics becomes obvious._

**_“I admire your dedication to this ship, to everyone.”_ **

_But it wasn’t so obvious to Minimus. He hadn’t expected the first kiss, or the second, or any that came after. Hadn’t expected the gentleness in which Megatron touched him. Hadn’t expected the ex-warlord’s care in his every action towards him on the berth._

**_“You’re so beautiful, Minimus.”_ **

_Betrayal came like a stab in the back. Megatron did not return. The Magnus armor would not listen to him. He tried to ignore the pain in his spark, but late at night in recharge the empty berth is a constant reminder._

_He was back. Leading a revolution. Another damn cannon on his arm. Just the same, just the same. You were deceived--_

**_“Minimus, I’ve not seen you in centuries.”_ **

_He had saved millions._

_They save the universe but suddenly there’s just not enough time. For either of them._

_He’s led away in chains._

_It’s one of the last memories Minimus has of Megatron. They’re in the prison cell, the same one he was stuck in for the duration of his final trial._

_“Minimus,” the big mech said softly, taking his hand in his own, “Perform the ritus with me?”_

_It’s Megatron’s way of telling him that he--Minimus Ambus--is enough, was always enough._

_A promise of a life together they couldn’t have._

_Rodimus officiated the ceremony for them, just before the execution._

_Minimus wishes later that he had ripped the handcuffs off, but Megatron just smiled sadly and looped them behind Ultra Magnus’s neck and embraces him as best he can. Kissing him for the last time._

**_“I love you. I love you. I love you. I’m sorry.”_ **

_Minimus destroyed the armor, just as he said he would._

**_“You’re so much bigger without it.”_ **

_The crew scattered. He still sees Anode and Lug in the Luna-1 facility, and periodically some of the others that stayed on Cybertron proper, but not often._

_Minimus is so incredibly alone._

_He throws himself into work. He thinks about Megatron often. Every day. (Every hour.) He works until he’s too tired to stand, then collapses into his berth. If he’s exhausted, then the dreams don’t come as often. (But still, they come.)_

_Phantom hands caressing his frame, a low voice whispering gently into his audios. The warmth of a lover’s kiss._

**_“You flare, you flicker, you fade.”_ **

_He wakes alone on a cold berth. His spark and frame aching with a deep, ever present want._

_They’d barely even had a few years together! But it hurt. Megatron’s absence hurt so much._

_He sobs at the emptiness in his spark._

* * *

_It’s hard to describe exactly how he knows, but he does. Knows this mech shares the spark he had loved so much and for the first time in centuries he feels heard._

_Calamus is not Megatron. Minimus knows this. He still felt the pain of Megatron’s absence, and likely would feel it until his spark faded away into nothingness. But… the younger mech made him feel things that he hadn't felt for an eternity._

_Love has never been a big, grand thing to Minimus. It is always found in the small everyday things. It is a trait that Megatron always understood so well._

_Megatron would try so hard to write clearly, even with his terrible handwriting, just because he knew how much Minimus hated mess._

_Calamus dotes on him, bringing home his favorite energon sweets, a new book, or small useful things that he knows Minimus will adore._

_Megatron would whisper poetry to him as he slipped into recharge._

_Calamus is gentle, so gentle as he lifts Minimus up in his arms._

_Megatron would take the time to read every single one of his reports, when no one else would._

_Calamus tucks Minimus in when he gets up early for his shift, kissing him softly, just so he knows he’s not alone, that he isn’t leaving him--that he’s coming back, that he will always come back._

**_“And in the end, all your tomorrows become yesterdays.”_ **

_And Minimus wanted...this. A future that he never thought he could have._

* * *

When Calamus came back to himself, his spark chamber felt like it was going to burst. Minimus sat above him, and he could see the coolant trails on the tiny mech’s cheeks. He could feel the coolant on his own dripping down. They gazed at each other wordlessly.

He reached up to wipe the tears away, but Minimus guided Calamus’s hand over his spark with one hand instead and touched Calamus’s chest with his own.

He felt their sparks, straining towards the other.

“Minimus?”

“If I ask, will you say yes?”

Calamus pulled Minimus down into a kiss, the chill air making him shiver as his spark chamber opened.

‘You’re sure?’

‘Yes,” Minimus opens his own spark chamber, voice breaking, "I waited too long before...I will not waste a second chance.”

The desperation between the two of them is intense, so intense, as Calamus pulls Minimus’s frame tight against his own. Tendrils of light between their sparks reach out for each other. They can feel each and every point of contact. It’s beautiful, it’s overwhelming, it is a wonderful, terrible, exquisite agony.

Then there is only them, together.

And even when their sparks begin to drift apart the link stays, their love stays, singing between the two of them.

**_“I love you, I love you, I love you. Welcome home.”_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! That's the last of MiniMegs week from me this year, I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> You can usually find me (often literally) screaming about robots on Tumblr at [twilight-owl](http://twilight-owl.tumblr.com/).

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this idea bouncing around in my head for a while. I think part of me kept expecting someone else to write it because it felt like such an obvious thing to consider to me? But when the MiniMegs week thing came about I realized how badly I wanted to see it, and that I hadn't seen it yet, so I ended up writing it. Somewhere in this concept there's a ridiculously long slow burn fic begging to be written but, c'est la vie--this is not that slow burn fic.
> 
> (I just really wanted the Minimus that returned to Cybertron to have a happy ending.)
> 
> If anyone's curious, Calamus is basically Shattered Glass Megatron's design done in medic colors without the integrated weaponry (no Rumbler), he's also still got the darker helm and the translucent, glowy blue wings. It didn't feel right to make him small (if he's not beefy as hell what's even the point?), and I had no idea of what kind of frame design I'd even give a forged Megatron. So, I went with Shattered Glass, since I liked the idea of him being a flight frame if he'd been properly forged. (And it's a different enough design from IDW Megs that it doesn't feel like--well _obviously_ this is the same person.)


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